[ACCEPTED]Daniel Nordson

How long have you been roleplaying?: Too long.Any experience havng this auth before? Yes. I've played a multitude of characters of this archetype across different servers. TnB's Terminator and S.T.A.L.K.E.R. settings, Spire's Fallout setting, and a handful of small communities ranging from medieval fantasy to sci-fi. What are you applying for?: Light and heavy black-market flags or the equivalent. Why should you have this?: I feel that my potential for creating and reacting to role-play would be more effective from having this character. Not only would I be able to be in a position to create dramatic tensions, but the added pressure on the character adds another dimension to him, which in turn can add onto other characters. allso 2 only give mine frends scriptzzzzzzz 2 shot many mans. I also happen to have an uncomfortable amount of information on munitions, ballistics, and improvised explosions. [size=10]Anarchist's cookbook anyone? I mean-- among other things.[/size]Backstory: For Daniel Nordson, life didn't hand out a lot of luxuries. It was a hard truth for most orphans living in the gutters of Brazil's Favelas, that all they'd ever amount to was orphans. Especially if you were a white orphan. How and when Daniel ended up in the epitome of South America's death and cruelty, is more or less someone else's tragic story. All Daniel knew was that he was an Irish-Spanish mix, no more than ten, in a place that didn't care whether he lived or died. Hundreds of kids like him had died for years in the desolate place, and they would keep dying for years to come. Survival came from doing things that no one else would think of. He scraped by his first three years running packages or messages through shanty towns; regularly dodging around gunfights, police raids, and the band of muggers that perforated back alleys. At the time, his small frame and the Favela's crowded nature kept him alive. As his body matured, he needed more than just left over scraps to keep himself fed. Underground fighting matches provided a little more on-top of his courier earnings, provided he won. More often than naught he was pitted against opponents both older, faster, and stronger than he was. And more often than naught they beat him to a bloody pulp. The next two years were relentless. Not a day went by that the boy didn't have broken knuckles, or sore bruises. Needless to say, the homeless white boy grew in reputation. The fights he did win, he won just barely, and by being as ruthless as possible. It wasn't uncommon to lose to him simply because while you were delivering haymaker after haymaker into his stomach, he was digging his thumb into your eye socket-- or jabbing you in the throat with his elbow. There weren't a lot of rules in underground fighting.

Soon, he was recruited into one of the local gangs. As an initiation, the boy was instructed to kill somebody. Anybody would do. One of the older boys handed Daniel a .45ACP chambered Colt Defender and sent him out into the streets. After almost six hours of wandering, working up the nerve to pick a target, he found one. In the low light of the Favela's moon, down a discrete alleyway stood a couple. As isolated as someone would get in these dirty streets. One, an obvious tourist, wearing a tacky Hawaiian shirt, and a local prostitute. The gun kicked so hard, the boy almost dropped it as he emptied the entire magazine in their direction. The prostitute hit the ground first, rounds in her spine and lungs. She died slowly as she lay there, paralyzed and drowning on her own blood. The man had been shot at least twice, the holes against his tacky shirt still smoking. But if it had hurt, he didn't show any sign of it. He simply paced over to the boy- who was too paralyzed to move- before introducing himself as Joseph Hegarty, and what a pleasure it was to meet Daniel.

Joseph Hegarty was a hitman for the Gambino crime family in New York, but more importantly a Vampire. An excessively old one at that. His story started back in the 16th century, during the height of the European Renaissance, but we can tell that story another time. He took Daniel under his wing, and back to New York. Under the tutelage of the four hundred year old vampire, Daniel not only learned the nuances of violence and crime, but also high-socialite living. Not to mention something of an education. The four hundred year Hegarty, and the now eighteen year old Daniel, made quite a splash in New York's underworld. For awhile, Daniel thought he had a life in the mafia-- that is until the rest of the five families in New York started gunning after the pair. It was then revealed to Daniel, that the jobs and tasks Hegarty had Daniel do were all part of a ploy to cause a second civil war between the families, and that Hegarty had been the true cause of the Castellammares war almost fifty years back. Cornered, and at gunpoint, Daniel was told that he'd be allowed to if he killed Hegarty. Daniel chased Hegarty all the way to L.A, where they eventually showed down in an abandoned warehouse. It was only after rupturing a gas main, and leveling the building in an explosion was Daniel able to 'kill' the Vampire-- almost killing himself in the process.

As Daniel spent some years in L.A recovering, he began to unravel the many lives Hegarty had lived. He had set up an underground gun-range with contacts that could've only been made with someone in Hegarty's situation. The nearly limitless wealth of the four-hundred year old vampire was poured into the project. Despite fulfilling his end of the deal to the families, there was still a hit on Daniel's head, and it just so happened there was a place he could go underground until it blew over.

(It's long, and I still had to skip over some details like why Hegarty took an interest in Daniel in the first place, the extent of what Daniel was taught, and of course a lot of Hegarty's back story which is pretty tied up in this, but that's for a short story and not a backstory type up.)

Do you agree that you will use these responsibly, and understand these can be taken away at any time?Ayup.